


More than Sleeplessness

by greyvvardenfell



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-31 19:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/greyvvardenfell
Summary: Jakariel Lavellan comforts Dorian after yet another night of bad dreams following their entrapment in the Fade.





	More than Sleeplessness

Moonlight silvered Dorian’s hair as he cast his gaze over Skyhold’s empty courtyard, brow furrowed and wine glass in hand. His eyes burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to return to the tangle of sheets at Jakariel’s side yet, still haunted by the miasmic energy of the foul dream that had ripped him into wakefulness. The Inquisitor’s lifeless body, his cheerful face a gleaming skull reanimated by Dorian’s own magic, a skeletal hand that had once held him so close dragging its elongated fingernails down Dorian’s cheek… it was too much. The nightmare demon in the Fade must have been gorging itself on his fears to make up for its lost prey.

“What are you doing up so late, _ma’arlath_?” Jak stumbled onto the balcony, swathed in a blanket and rubbing his eyes. “Don’t you need your beauty sleep?”

Dorian hoped his shadowed grimace would read as a smile. “A face like mine is natural, my dear Inquisitor. ‘Beauty sleep’ is a myth cultivated by those less fortunate.”

Jakariel laughed. “Well, can’t you come keep me company at least? It made me nervous, when your side of the bed was cold.” He took another step towards him, arms raised for a hug. Dorian flinched before he could catch himself, and Jakariel cocked his head, confused. “What’s wrong, Dorian?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“It is. I’m fine. I’m coming back to bed.”

Jak frowned as the goblet in Dorian’s hand caught a flash of light. “You’re drinking?”

“It’s empty.”

“I can see that,” Jakariel said, folding his arms. “Which means you drank it already.”

“I’m allowed a glass of wine or two now and again, Jak. I’m a grown man.”

“I know. But if you’re drinking alone in the middle of the night, which isn’t something you usually do…” Jakariel reached for the glass and took it from his hand, setting it aside on the edge of the balcony railing to mesh their fingers together. “What’s wrong, Dorian?” he asked again.

Dorian’s eyes flitted over Jak’s face, gilded by the moon. The light made it all too easy to see the structure of his cheekbones, his jawline, his chin, features that would still be visibly his even in death. “I… Maker, I need another drink.”

Jak brought his hands up to cup Dorian’s cheeks. “Normally I’m all for that, but no, you don’t. We need to talk about this. Come inside, please. Let me help.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything you can do.”

“You haven’t even told me what’s bothering you yet. Can’t we decide after that if there’s anything I can do or not?”

Dorian clenched his jaw under the gentle strokes of Jakariel’s thumbs. “Fine. Fine! You win.” He pulled free and stalked towards the door. “Well? Aren’t you coming? Let’s get it over with.”

“You’re making me so eager,” Jak said dryly, but followed him in, leaving the wine glass behind. He sat on the edge of the bed with the blanket draped over his shoulders and watched Dorian pace up and down the length of the rug.

“I’m… worried. About you,” said Dorian after a long, pregnant pause. “Since the Fade, I’ve been… worried. I know there are a thousand explanations, none of them good, for why I’m so worried, but I still can’t help but be…”

“Worried?”

“Exactly.” Dorian swallowed hard. “The nightmare demon we encountered knows us now. I imagine it has a special vendetta against the quarries it allowed to escape, but I thought perhaps the sacrifice of Warden Alistair would—”

Jakariel soured. “Even he knew he was only buying us time. I never should’ve let him stay. He died for nothing.”

“He died to save all of us, Jak. And not just us, but all of Thedas, if we’re to succeed. There’s a lot riding on the Inquisition’s success. On your success.” He looked away. “And that’s what worries me the most.”

“You think I can’t do it?”

“Not at all. I’m worried that you can.” With a sigh, Dorian sat down heavily on the bed beside Jakariel. “I know a lot about death, _amatus_. I didn’t think it scared me anymore. I’ve walked in the Fade. I’ve killed men with my own hands. Death holds very few mysteries that I have yet to uncover, at least from the magical, scholarly side of things.” With effort, he met Jakariel’s questioning gaze. “But I am afraid, love. I’m afraid for you. If you complete what you’ve set out to do, you’ll be wandering Thedas with a target on your back for every assassin from here to the Anderfels to see. If you don’t complete it, you’ll die. If you bite off more than you can chew, you’ll die. If you anger the wrong nobleman, you’ll die. If you slip and fall on the stairs up to see me in the library, you’ll die! Don’t you see, Jak?” His voice broke. “Every time I fall asleep, all that awaits me is a veritable catalog of the horrible things that could befall you. Even knowing it’s the demon’s influence does nothing to make it less real to me.”

“Oh, Dorian.” Jakariel leaned into him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Dorian’s hands clasped his wiry archer’s arms, finding comfort in the living heat of his golden brown skin. “Why didn’t you tell me? This has been going on for weeks and you didn’t say anything?”

“The last thing you need is to manage my stress on top of your own. Besides, I’ve dealt with sleeplessness before. How do you think I discovered the joys of wine in the first place?”

“Don’t, please. This is more than sleeplessness.” Jak rocked him gently, resting his chin on the top of Dorian’s head. “Is there anything I can do or say or… anything?”

Dorian sighed and snuggled closer. “I don’t know, Jak. Do you know how much it pains me to say that I don’t know?”

Jak couldn’t help but smile. “Quite a bit, I imagine.”

“But oddly, I do feel better, knowing that you know. There’s a strange relief to breaking a long-held silence, isn’t there? Perhaps the demon will leave me be for tonight, or at least for now. Shall we?” Dorian disentangled himself and stood, pulling the elf with him. They crawled back into bed together, Jak casting his blanket over both of them as Dorian wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist and planted a kiss on the tip of his ear from behind. “Thank you for pushing me, Jak. I know I’m not the easiest man to talk to at times.”

“I don’t know what you mean, _ma’arlath_. I’ve never had a problem talking to you,” Jakariel murmured over his shoulder.

Dorian chuckled. “Well, regardless, it’s done now, isn’t it? Now you know.”

Jak rolled over and pressed his forehead against Dorian’s, breaking the loose circle of his hug to pull his hands up and kiss each finger. “And now that I know, I can help. I may not know exactly how yet, but I’m going to. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Fictober prompt, "It's done."


End file.
